Charlie sat slumped against the head of his bed, book in lap, drifting between sleep and the real world. A gentle acoustic song sounded from his stereo across the room, but the simple tune wasn't complimented with the stark decibel in which he let it play. He didn't care though. He couldn't muster up much appreciation for anything in recent times. The wedding sought to that. He was pleased for his mother and as much as he knew about his stepfather, Colin, he was a decent enough man; but moving in with him and his three young children was a different story. The step-siblings were nice and all, but they didn't like Charlie. They always hung off Casey's arms because a female figure was a new thing to them, considering their own up and left them, but Charlie, much like a babysitter, was the enemy.

A knock sounded against the other side of his door and Charlie snapped his eyes open. The visitor entered regardless. Charlie dragged a sleeve across his eyes, switched the stereo to standby with its remote and yawned, "Why knock if you barge on in regardless?"

The six-year-old flashed a wicked smile, "One of your friends called but Mommy says you've to finish your homework first."

Charlie waved his book, "Novel – reading – so who called?" The child pretended to think hard about this, scratching his head for added effect. "Harry-"

"Guy."

Charlie shifted from the bed and slammed the book onto the bedside cabinet. Harry's gaze never left him as he started about the room in search of a pair of roller blades. "Whatcha looking for Charlotte?"

Charlie spun to him quickly, "You call me that one more time and I swear to God I'll-"

"I'll tell Mommy and Daddy about you and one of your bird-friends smoking." He squeaked and dodged as Charlie made an extravagant swipe for him.

"I've never smoked a day in my life." Charlie said seriously, composing himself.

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, but who they going to believe?" Charlie glared and silently cursed him. If he thumped Harry, it wouldn't do much for his reputation in the household, if he said something in spite, the child would cry. Instead, he continued his hunt for his skates and shouldered past Harry roughly as he exited.

"Aw, flip, sorry. Didn't mean that."

Harry rubbed his arm, glowering furiously. As Charlie mounted the stairs he heard a distinct 'Mommy!' With a shake of his head he muttered that Casey was not their 'mommy' but the statement was for no one in particular. No one listened to him even if there was company.